


The Heart of a Riddle

by PandoraCulpa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Egypt, Family, Gen, Riddles, Sphinxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCulpa/pseuds/PandoraCulpa
Summary: “I didn’t challenge you for the door to the pyramid.  I came to win the right to ask you a riddle.”Again her tail beat the sand, but the fire was receding from her eyes.  “Why?”“For my own reasons.  You love riddles; no doubt you will understand it.”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	The Heart of a Riddle

_Hail Aten, Amen-Ra_ , she mused, turning her face to the west to be bathed in the orange rays of the disc slipping inexorably toward the horizon. Her wide golden eyes never blinked as she stared down the sun, watching it slide away and night fill the desert, pooling among the dunes and monuments of antiquity. The great pyramids loomed nearby as she dropped lightly from the rocky outcropping to pad through the ancient city of the dead. The heat from the sand radiated up through her paws, and she nearly purred in contentment. She had missed the enveloping heat of this land during her centuries of travels, more than any other aspect of her home.

It had been far too long, she concluded, since she had come to Giza. It had been rather close to this place that she had first opened her eyes upon the world, her first sight the shifting yellow sands. Here, the very air breathed into her a sense of completion that she had found nowhere else. Crooning a soft melody that had been long forgotten before the great structures towering above her were erected, she slipped along a row of mastabas, making her way through the tombs following a long disused memory. She was home, in the land where so much effort had been expended to halt the progress of time, and there was no need to hurry here. At last, she could relax and drink in the passage of time in the proper fashion of her people. Contemplation, in this age, was a rare luxury.

Even the grains of sand working their way between her toes were soothing in their familiar discomfort; she would know the feel of this desert even if she were blind, would feel the warmth rising up from its bones to caress her. Falling back to habits made centuries earlier, she paused beneath one of the wonders on the plateau, gazing up at the eroded features rising in silence above the tombs. The memory of that face, intact and painted with bright pigments and gleaming in the sun, spread a lazy smile across her face. She murmured to it, in a language that hadn’t been heard in over a thousand years. _Faithful, unalterable. Still you keep your watch, and your word to the forgotten king_.

Passing the ancient sentry, she strode at a ground-eating pace toward the tiny pyramid at the base of Khafre’s monument. The smallest of all on the plateau, it was nearly gone now, as stone-robbers had taken its blocks for other, greater projects. Soon she was crouched at its base, settling herself with contentment to watch over the dilapidated structure. A sphinx never feels fully content unless they are guarding something, but she was pragmatic as well, and anticipated a quiet interlude of meditation under the eye of Ra in her homeland. With a pleased sigh, she closed her eyes.

It was only a short time- it could have been a few days, or perhaps a few weeks- before she was roused from her contemplation by the sound of sandals scrabbling against rock and sand, and she opened her eyes, hissing in annoyance. Her acute hearing had detected the intruder well before he came into view, so the first time he saw her she had drawn herself up into the classic pose of her people, and her tail twitched with amusement at the flare of awe in his eyes. Age, she reflected wryly, did at least give one a good sense of timing and presence.

At the sight of her, the purposeful stride that had carried him here faltered, and she studied him intently as his steps slowed, then stopped well beyond her reach. Irritation at being disturbed was melting into curiosity as she took in the man’s coppery hair escaping from under a dusty turban and his sun-darkened, freckled skin that was alien to these lands. A foreigner then, who was too foolish too realize that the pyramid she had chosen to guard had long since been robbed of its funereal treasures. She lashed her tail once, angrily, against the ground.

Well, she would make short work of him, one way or another, and be back to her reverie. In a deep voice like a bell, she challenged, “Stop, traveler, and come no further. For to pass, you must first-“

“I know the rules,” he interrupted, speaking fluent Arabic with only a little accent. “We needn’t waste time unless you insist.”

She blinked; it would have been the equivalent of a shout of surprise by most creatures. Never before in her long existence had a man dared to interrupt her. When she spoke to feeble mortals, they departed her presence with a deep and profound gratitude for their continued existence, if they managed to escape her at all. They never spoke out of turn, in the midst of her ritual. As she considered him through passionless golden eyes, the man inclined his head respectfully, a talon suspended from his ear glinting in the rays of the sun.

“Please forgive me,” he said softly, still staring at the ground. “I didn’t mean to offend you. But I haven’t much time.”

She flexed her paws, loosening the anticipatory tightness that had stiffened the sinews. Lack of time, she at least understood, had always been one of man’s concerns, and as close to being completely opposed to her own kind’s perspective as was possible. But what could one expect from creatures with such miserably short lives? 

She smiled faintly at him, revealing the tips of sharp teeth, and nodded almost imperceptibly. In truth, her interest was roused by the stranger’s temerity, and she was unsurprised when he began slowly approaching her once more. He was tall and leggy, the stained cloth he had wrapped around his head beginning to slip as he sweated beneath the afternoon sun, and his light robes showed the signs of long wear. Nevertheless, there was a quiet dignity about him as he met her gaze, blue eyes steady in a face lined with worry and something else. It didn’t fit with the persona of one who would seek out a sphinx; she was accustomed to arrogance, confidence, and to a lesser degree, fear. But this man was unafraid, though as determined as any of the others.

No matter. Her role never changed, regardless of theirs. Nor was she interested in their ephemeral motives; humans were too shortsighted to ever think of what truly mattered, consequently she had ceased trying to divine their reasoning a millennium ago. And so she drew herself up, even her black-tipped tail lying still, as she spoke in a measured cadence:

“To unravel me  
You need a simple key,  
No key that was made  
By locksmith’s hand  
But a key that only I  
Will understand.”

She let the last word trail off her tongue with another mysterious smile as she watched the man ponder her riddle. By no means her most difficult, it was still tricky enough to punish him for disturbing her rest; his brow was furrowed in concentration and his lips moved as he sorted through her puzzle. Pleased, she shifted her weight on her hind legs, readying herself to leap upon him at an incorrect answer.

After an unexpectedly short time, he looked up at her, and an expression of irony settled across his features. “A cipher,” he told her, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, and her eyes flashed with annoyance but it was the only sign of displeasure that she showed for being outwitted. Instead, she rose and stepped aside, moving with surprising swiftness and grace for a creature her size, and cleared his path into the pyramid she guarded.

He didn’t move.

Real irritation began pricking at her as she stared at the unmoving man before her, and her tail lashed angrily. Why did he not enter? Was he afraid of her now, him who spoke so boldly before? She wanted nothing more than to be left alone by this wretched person who interrupted her meditations, and with a snarl the sphinx turned to lope toward the distant hills. She could be there by dusk, and she knew of an old mastaba…

“Wait,” he called out to her, in that soft, gentle accent, and she halted, turning to him with displeasure written plainly on her face.

“What?” she spat, the word coming awkwardly from her lips. Sphinxes do not tend to speak beyond their ritual, and she hadn’t spoken anything other than her rules and riddles to another creature for nearly eight hundred years. Only her curiosity kept her from breaking his neck like a reed; she had killed men who aggravated her for less. Her black tipped tail thumped the earth, sending up a small cloud of dust. 

He seemed to understand his perilous position but never reached for his wand, which was fortunate considering she would have attacked at the movement. Keeping very still, he said, “I didn’t challenge you for the door to the pyramid. I came to win the right to ask you a riddle.”

Again her tail beat the sand, but the fire was receding from her eyes. “Why?”

“For my own reasons. You love riddles; no doubt you will understand it.”

She considered it, staring inscrutably at him while her tail lashed back and forth. It was an audacious request, one that she had never in her long life foreseen, but it had a certain appeal to it. Especially his invitation to her to ascertain his motives from the riddle he would ask her; barring other sphinxes, no being had ever riddled _her_. 

That decided her. Creatures of her age crave novelty, for looking down the long years of her existence paled most experiences to blurs of commonality. She forgot countries, religions, and dynasties because one seemed but a smudged copy of another, making her wonder at all the strife caused because of such minimal distinctions. He was offering her something she was unlikely to ever see again, and this was the highest form of currency with her kind.

But she was Pedibastet ta-sherit, among the oldest of her kind, and pride demanded its own coin. “You thought to riddle me by defeating me once only? Traveler, can you best me again?” 

He nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “I can.”

She returned his nod gravely. “The stakes are the same,” she informed him and he actually smiled at her, a wisp of humor stealing across his serious face. The fool actually seemed to be looking forward to risking his life with her, and unwillingly, she felt the stirrings of amusement herself. How long had it been since she had encountered one so intrepid? Fool or no, he would at least provide her with entertainment in exchange for his interruption, and with one last flick of her tail she sat back down on her haunches.

“Then we begin again.”

~*~*~

As the sphinx settled herself and began contemplating her next riddle, Bill Weasley took a small sip from the canteen at his waist, merely wetting his lips before replacing the top. He wasn’t sure how long it would take the sphinx to be satisfied enough to allow him to question her, but he certainly didn’t expect it to be any time soon. From the little he had learned about them, which was as much as he’d been able to draw from the local cursebreakers with whom he worked, they were not at all concerned with hurrying themselves or fitting into a time schedule. It was what made them impeccable guardians, for they never bored of the task.

Nevertheless, he had been serious about his shortness of time. By all rights he ought to be back in Britain right now; he was in Egypt ostensibly to collect his meager belongings from the flat in which he had lived for the past five years, even though they were already packed as neatly as he could make them, and sitting in his empty foyer. With the reforming of the Order of the Phoenix, he would be of far more use at home, as well as being able to help support his parents through … He sidestepped the thought, returning his mind to the matter at hand. By Monday morning, Gringotts would be expecting him to report to the branch in Diagon Alley for his new assignments; this gave him approximately a day and a half to satisfy the sphinx and gain his answers before he would be forced to depart. He hoped that it was enough time.

Years of studying ciphers and runes, all riddles in their own right, was almost all that gave Bill the confidence that he would be capable of accomplishing his goal. A sphinx was a tricky bit of business; typically when a cursebreaker would find a sphinx guarding a tomb or monument he was required to call in the Egyptian Minister of Magical Antiquities, who would nearly always delegate the riddling of the sphinx to one of his own employees. He had always assumed this to be avarice on their part, for it neatly sidestepped the possibility of a foreigner laying sole claim to a treasure if the Egyptian Ministry was involved in its recovery. But the unfortunate result was that very few of the cursebreakers with whom he spoke had actually faced a sphinx themselves, and despite the availability of good _general_ information about them, there was very little in the way of specifics to guide him.

So Bill did what he always did in this type of situation. He followed his instincts.

Riddling a sphinx in this manner was what most people, even his mad twin brothers, would consider certifiably insane. But he thought back to what young Harry had managed, in the Triwizard Tournament. And while ‘young Harry’ was in fact ‘Harry Potter’, the child legend, the Boy Who Lived, Bill had met him one summer. He was a smart boy, though by no stretch the smartest he’d ever met, and would no doubt someday become a wizard to be reckoned with, but it wasn’t magical strength that got one past a sphinx. Oedipus was case in point for that; the Egyptian equivalent of Obliviators were still bewailing the lapse that had allowed that ancient Muggle to approach a sphinx and then spread the tale throughout the region.

No, Harry had been clever enough to work his way past a young sphinx, and while his own sphinx looked anything but young, it still buoyed his confidence to know that a stripling had beaten one of these creatures. And so he sat patiently, watching the heat shimmers as he waited for her next riddle.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before she let out a soft breath, and he turned back to her expectantly. Impassive eyes blinked at him once, and he wondered if she used kohl or if the Egyptians had imitated her own exotic appearance. Her dusky skin shone in the sun, lit by tawny highlights that nearly matched her pelt, but despite her human features, the face that smiled at him was as alien as those belonging to the dragons that Charlie loved so much. Her eyes were too knowing, her lips curled like a predator rather than in humor, and Bill suppressed a shiver as she addressed him once again in that bell-like voice.

“Five riddles must you answer before you may ask one of me. I will give you the first, for the first that you answered; four yet remain. And so traveler, I ask of you:

It is said among my people that some things are improved by death.  
Tell me, what stinks while living, but in death smells good?”

It was not the type of riddle that he had expected. All of his research had turned up longer questions, filled with subtle clues or wordplay. This held none of that; indeed, it almost seemed as though the sphinx were engaged in inconsequential chatter with him even though he knew better. Bill combed his memory, considering various foul-smelling plants that he knew of, and wondering if their demise was in any way considered an improvement. While he thought, the sphinx kept her Mona Lisa face on, idly batting a dung beetle with a lazy paw as it scurried across the sand. She showed no signs of impatience as he pondered, and he knew that she wouldn’t even if he kept her in anticipation of his answer for the next twenty years.

Which, he concluded grimly a couple of hours later, could well be how long she’d have to wait. He had no idea whatsoever.

As evening began to fall, the confidence that had carried him so far started to sneak off into the darkness as though it were escaping a disastrous blind date. Nothing that he had guessed seemed likely enough to risk a reply, and facing those pitiless eyes and claws he now had the complete measure of his death wish, which wasn’t nearly so great as he had imagined when it was a theoretical event rather than a statistical probability. He could almost hear his mother scolding his stupidity for making such a foolish gesture, and at the thought of her his stomach growled noisily as the hunger he had been ignoring pushed to the fore of his consciousness.

Reaching a hand slowly into the bag he carried at his waist- since stopping the sphinx, all of his movements were slow and careful- he pulled out a handful of dried dates and began chewing one thoughtfully. It would suffice, but what he really wanted ever since planning to move home was something British: fish and chips, bangers and mash, steak and kidney pie… his mouth began watering at the thought. Of course, Mum would have a huge breakfast the morning that he returned, since he’d be getting in much too late for dinner. Eggs cooked a half-dozen different ways, piles and piles of pancakes, thick slabs of bacon and sausage that would sizzle and pop and fill the house with an aroma that would wake even the deepest sleeper…

He stopped his train of thought abruptly and sat up. The sphinx, noting the change in his attitude, cocked her head slightly at him as he gazed at the last dates in his hand and began chuckling.

Without looking at her, he said, “A pig. The answer is a pig.” Shoulders shaking with quiet mirth, he tossed the fruit away and glanced up at her. “Merlin, I’d love a hamsteak right now.”

She didn’t reply, but he expected only a riddle or an attack from her. Homesickness washed over him as a chorus of responses from various family members was supplied by his mind, but he put them off grimly. As much as he wanted to be with them, now more than ever, they were the reason that he was here.

Once again he refused to follow that thought to its resolution, although the bothersome complaint crept in: _he should have returned my post. I’m his brother; he should have owled me._

But he couldn’t afford to think about it now; the sphinx was nodding abstractedly, her eyes glowing with a nacreous light in the twilight as she spoke the next riddle.

“If you break me  
I do not stop working  
If you touch me  
I may be snared  
If you lose me  
Nothing will matter.”

Bill’s throat constricted as she recited. This was the style of riddle he had expected, and while this one was gratifyingly clear to him, it was also uncomfortably close to home. His mother’s worried voice, remembered from their last Floo conversation, seemed to whisper in a corner of his mind as he croaked out, “Heart,” ignoring the keen look that the sphinx shot him. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to put away the image of his mother’s pale face and tear stained cheeks. _Later_ , he said to himself. _Two more riddles._

__

__

_Two more riddles, and maybe I can mend Mum’s heart. And mine, too._

He realized then that the sphinx was simply watching him, and he glanced up at her warily. “Was that wrong?” he asked, his voice thin with the effort of keeping the sudden edge of fear unheard. _I can’t fail, I can’t…_

She regarded him seriously for another moment before replying, “No. Had you been incorrect, you would already be bones.” Fathomless gold eyes blinked lazily from a sun-darkened face, and he heard a rumble that could almost be called a purr. “I find you interesting, traveler.”

Bill released a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding, and half-bowed to her awkwardly from where he sat in the sand. “Thank you. I am glad that I am not an imposition to you.” 

He almost missed the grin that split her face in the swiftly gathering darkness. “Oh, you _are_ an imposition,” she replied complacently. “But you are an entertaining one. Let us continue.

Who makes it, has no need for it.  
Who buys it, has no use for it.  
Who uses it, knows it not.”

“Bugger,” Bill muttered under his breath. “That one I remember reading…” He trailed off into silence, staring up at the stars above as he tried to recall the answer. The black sky above was spangled with lights, each star burning with an intensity that he had never grown used to in all his time in Egypt. Even in the remote countryside of his home, the night sky was only a weak comparison of this; he should know, as many nights as he and Charlie had snuck out to see meteor showers, or lunar eclipses. The bright moon floated above them, nearly full, and lighting the dunes like a pallid shadow of day.

Remembering the midnight forays caused other memories to jostle for attention as well; Dad pointing out Jupiter to Charlie and himself one clear night, staying up all night with Mum’s blessing and plenty of hot cocoa to watch the Leonid meteor shower, helping Percy with his astronomy homework over one Christmas holiday…

 _Enough, Bill! Stop letting your mind wander- it’s going to get you killed!_ And suddenly the answer was there, following right on the heels of that thought.

“A coffin,” he said, and the sphinx inclined her head to him briefly. Excitement flared in his chest, and he had to contain himself from leaping to his feet as a new energy coursed through his body. _I might just be able to do this_ , he thought with some excitement. But the sphinx was drawing herself up as though to speak to him again, the look in her eyes calculating, and he sobered abruptly. Celebrate afterwards; one more riddle to go.

A cool wind sent swirls of sand up into the night sky and Bill shivered as he reached for the small pack he had carried with him. Withdrawing a square of folded material, he shook it out to reveal a thin, grayish-brown cloak that he wrapped tight around his shoulders. With the suns retreat, the warmth of the sands had gradually dwindled until a distinct chill hung in the night air, although the creature before him never acknowledged the drop in temperature. She sat quietly, her eyes half-lidded and her tail flicking like an ordinary cat's, before addressing him once more in her deep, tolling voice.

“Four riddles you have mastered; one remains. Success will bring the answer to your own riddle; failure will bring your death. And so, traveler:

A hundred and one  
By fifty divide  
And if a cipher  
Is rightly applied  
The answer is one from nine.”

It was a tricky one, but Bill had expected the worst at the end. Silently, he repeated the riddle to himself as he tried to work through the elements of it. One hundred and one divided by fifty…a cipher applied…and coming up as eight? Math, he decided, was not the issue here, and he yawned widely as fatigue began seeping through his body. Shaking his head to keep awake, he focused his mind on the last remaining barrier to the answers he wanted. There had to be a trick…

Long hours of the night crept by, as he thought and the sphinx waited. A grayish false dawn was starting to light the eastern sky when Bill finally thought of a possibility. Roman numerals, representing all of the numbers…and the cipher, although not what he had originally thought…yes, it had to be the answer. One from nine…

Clearing his throat, Bill announced, “I have your answer.”

The sphinx didn’t reply, only regarded him thoughtfully through inscrutable golden eyes.

With a faint smile, more reminiscent of the sphinx herself than he realized, Bill said, “C for one hundred, I for one, and divided by L, for fifty. C-L-I, and when we apply your cipher, or O, to the right, we have Clio, one of the nine muses.” He gave her a triumphant grin, as though daring her to say otherwise.

The sphinx inclined her head, a brief acknowledgment of the correct answer, and Bill’s heart soared with relief and excitement. He had done it; he’d beaten the sphinx five times, and now…

She stood, golden eyes studying him with intensity, and he felt a moments panic as she walked soundlessly across the sands until she was face to face with him. They stared wordlessly at one another, ephemeral man and ageless beast, until her bell-like voice chimed, “Well done, traveler. You have earned your reward. Ask, and I shall answer.”

~*~*~

Men, she thought, were odd creatures. Having defeated her by answering all the riddles she posed, he stood as though stunned, unable to utter his own. A waste of time, she thought, for one who claimed to have so little. What did Man understand of Time?

Finally, the traveler folded his cloak, and seated himself once more on the sands. She waited; as the challenger, it was only fitting that she stand as a supplicant before him. While this unorthodox human might interrupt ritual with the impetuousness of his kind, she respected the ceremony, and would not waver from its form. And it amused her, to play for once the reverse role in the drama perpetuated by her people.

The man cleared his throat unnecessarily, and then met her eyes. Without preamble, he said,

“You can have me, but cannot hold me  
Gain me and quickly lose me  
If treated with care, I can be great  
And if betrayed, I will break.”

She blinked once, waiting to see if he was truly finished. _This_ was his riddle for her? Preposterous.

He was waiting, watching her with candid eyes, and suddenly the pieces fell into place. Her tail flicking, she looked into his face and answered, “Trust. Who has betrayed your trust, man?”

His face conveyed a small degree of shock, though she was certain that had been his true challenge to her; to see through his charade and draw out the real question, the one no riddle could contain. His hurt had been plain to see as he had pondered the various riddles she’d given him, and although she didn’t claim to understand men, she was wise enough to gauge them. His motives for facing a sphinx, however, remained murky; men did not risk themselves over hurt feelings.

His face clouded, frustration and grief evident. “Don’t you know?” he asked her hoarsely.

She cocked her head to study him. “Not a woman, nor a lover. Kin, I would assume.”

He hung his head, unwilling to meet her pitiless gaze. “My brother,” he said faintly.

“Ah.” She had brothers, spread from one end of the continent to the other, though she could not imagine that they held any bond with her. Sphinxes were, after all, solitary beings.

“He’s broken faith with my family,” the man continued. “Despite everything we have shared, the whole family, through good and ill, he’s left us for a lie. He won’t see the truth, and he’d rather devastate the ones who care about him most than admit he’s been mistaken, and misled.” He looked up into her eyes, almost pleadingly. “There must be some way of making him see reason. There has to be some way to heal our family.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But why would you think that one such as I would have these answers for you? I am not human, nor do I value family and kin as do you. I know a different world from yours, traveler, and man’s reason and man’s logic have never been something I have shared.”

“But you are ancient, and wise,” the man said. His eyes still entreated her to ease his pain, and she stared dispassionately back at him. “Surely, in all your days, you have seen this kind of betrayal.”

“Many times over.”

“Then you can help me! Your kind may be keepers of treasures and guardians of tombs, but you also live far longer than most creatures, and collect knowledge as well as riddles. I’ve read that your people once advised the pharaohs.” His desperation was a bit discomfiting to behold, but she shook her head once, cutting off the torrent of pleas that appeared poised to breach his control.

“Only one of my kind ever advised the humans of this land, and Khentimentiu always was a singular fool. Nor did he speak to the pharaoh, but to the priest of Anubis. Little man, we may be the custodians to the riches of Egypt, but the lives of you mortals are of no concern to us. How could we embroil ourselves in such foolishness as humans engage in, when all of your aspirations come to nothing so quickly?” She lifted her gaze over his head, to the Great Pyramid looming above them both. “Only the ancients understood the power of Time, and acted with an eye to the future; your people have regressed into reaction as primitive as apes.”

She looked back down at him, saw the bitter disappointment that had leached into his once-pleasant face. “I’m sorry, traveler,” she said, softly. “I have no wisdom to offer you to heal your wounds.”

He nodded, defeated. “I am sorry to have disturbed your rest. If you have no words for me, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” He rose from the sand and turned to the trail that had brought him to her resting place, but she called out to him to pause. 

“Wisdom, traveler, comes from- among other things- knowledge of ones limitations as well as those around them. Understanding this will bring you some peace. Your influence on your brother may be great, possibly even as great as his influence is upon you, but until you learn the true extent of your effect on his life, you will be discontented. I counsel you to acceptance, man.”

He looked back at her over his shoulder. “What else is left to me?” he asked sadly.

She smiled at him with a trace of pity, before reciting:

“What does man love more than life?  
Fear more than death or mortal strife?  
What the poor have, what the rich require  
And what all contented men desire-  
What the miser spends, and the spendthrift saves,  
And all men carry to their graves?

“There is the beginning of wisdom for you, man,” she sang, as she began padding away across the sands. “I give you that gift for free, for the amusement you have offered me. Spend it with care.” And then she was racing free across the desert, away from the cares and woes of man and the strange traveler who had disturbed her rest with his peculiar questions.


End file.
